Christmas at 9 Years Old
by Temari 88
Summary: A comparison fiction on how Sakura, Naruto and Sasuke spend their Christmas. *set after the Uchiha massacre*


_Hello everyone! :D_

_Straight from a new LJ meme, a small comparative fiction for Team 7 on Christmas... the person requesting this story wanted to see the different ways future Team 7 in which they spend this holiday, the only 'must' was it had to be set __after the Uchiha massacre for angst points. I hope I got it across. ^^;_

_Please take into consideration that both Sakura and Sasuke are far from my favorite characters..._

_Disclaimer: I own nothing but what I wrote._

_Ja ne,  
Temari 88 _

* * *

Naruto didn't like Christmas... he liked the snow and the lights, could stand the cold air getting under his clothes, but the _cheer _he could feel as he passed the houses and saw families laughing, playing and generally enjoying the festivity... they made even his best smile drop. But, truly, there wasn't much else he could do: he didn't want to stay inside his apartment—he had the feeling that the cold was even more pronunced in there than it was outside (and it wasn't only because the landlord had cut off his heat)... in a way he thought if he watched normal families, maybe he could absorb some of the warmth he was sure was inside those houses.

He had been walking for more than an hour, stopping every once in a while to carefully peer over a window ledge and see normal kids eating the Christmas dinner with their parents - he never stopped long by one window, though, because he didn't want those people to see him—they would glare at him, it would ruin their happy mood... and he didn't want to be responsible for that. He never wanted to, but even more so during that time of the year.

At long last he arrived where his feet always seemed to take him, whenever he stopped thinking about his surroundings: Ichiraku Ramen. The food stall was closed, of course, the old man Teuchi was home enjoying the holiday with his family, he didn't have a reason to still be working that late the 25th of December. Naruto sighed dejected, he really was hoping to find the booth open, to talk to the old man and spend a little time there... to lessen the time he will have to himself in his cold apartment. He stood in front of the metallic shutter for a minute longer, then he turned to leave when a confused voice caught his attention.

"Are? Naruto-kun?" it was Teuchi-ossan, who had opened the back door of the ramen shop and was holding a bag with the garbage.

_"Ah... ossan lives here..."_ thought Naruto, before mustering enough of his usual spirit to give the man a small smile.

Teuchi stood there, watching the small boy - noticing how sad and lonely he looked - before nodding his head to himself. He quickly disposed of the trash then went back to Naruto, giving him a grin. "Come on in, Naruto-kun, I'll cook some ramen for you, what do you say?" he said and without waiting for an answer, the man guided the blond inside and started preparing his speciality for his best customer.

When Naruto left, a paper bag in hand with a number of ramen take-away cups (free of charge!), he could smile more easily and the prospect of spending the rest of Christmas in his apartment didn't seem so frightening anymore... and, who knew, maybe Hokage-jisan would also come in the morning and keep him company for sometime.

-x-

Sakura **loved **Christmas (even if she was mildly annoyed that the Academy was closed).

Her mother was a great cook and everything she prepared for Christams Eve's dinner and for the Christmas lunch and dinner were utterly delicious and she couldn't wait to eat them. Another thing she loved of that festivity were the bright colors Konoha was encased in - all the shops hanging the decorations on the windows, the streetlamps adorned with lights in the shape of stars, Leaf symbols, reindeers, Santas and a lot more - and she was always giddy when her dad came home with the pine to decor—Sakura would pout until her father pulled her up high to place the star at the top of the tree and she would squee when her mother finally plugged the lights in.

Sakura also had a weakness for egg-nog and would literally drool over her cup every time her mom presented it in front of her nose. She swore to one day prepare a bathtub worth of egg-nog and then bathe in it. That was how much she loved the yellow stuff! Of course her mother would scold her for wasting food (or beverages, in that case) but she already knew how to escape punishment: a pout, teary eyes and a watery 'I'm sorry' would do the trick—she had her parents wrapped around her little finger, and she loved that too.

She wasn't much for snow, though... she hated going out when it snowed and worse yet, she hated going out after a snowy night: the white stuff would freeze and she always risked falling and Sakura _hated _making a fool of herself - especially if Ino or Sasuke-kun happened to see her.

The thought of Sasuke-kun suddenly dampered her mood... she felt tears well up in her eyes at the thought of her loved one: she had asked him if he wanted to pass the holiday with her and her family, but he had ignored her - probably had not even heard her. She turned to look out of the window, lost in thought, until her mother called her.

"Sakura-chan?"

"Yes, mommy, what is it?"

"Why... don't you want to open your presents?" said her father, winking merrily.

Sakura's face instantaneously lit up, a huge grin taking over her lips as she raced toward the pile of gifts standing under the tree—she had had to restrain herself from opening them right away that morning and was now overjoyed. She stopped for a moment, wondering why she had been down before, when she couldn't remember, she shrugged and went on to unwrap her presents while her parents watched her and laughed at ther enthusiasm.

-x-

Sasuke was positively disgusted by the people living in Konoha right now. As soon as December arrived, a throng of people had come to him asking if he wanted to go stay at their houses for winter... all had sported kind smiles and had spoken with an understanding tone, but he _knew _- they were all pitying him under those masks of politeness. He couldn't stand it. He didn't need pity! He was a Uchiha and Uchihas are _**not **_subject to pity!

People from every part of Konoha had come and asked if he wanted to stay with them: from civilians (merchants, bookstore owners, Ino, Sakura) to nobles and even some high ranking shinobi (he remembered a Hyuuga, an Akimichi and some stray ninja with an itai-ate over an eye). All trying to gain some sort of power in housing the only survivor of the Uchiha massacre, no doubt. So he ignored them all... in some cases he went close to punch someone in the face and yell at them to leave him be, but pride held the instinct at bay.

He had been cooped up in his house all day, staring at the wall where a calendar marked the date: December 25th. It seemed yesterday that his mother had come to wake him up a little past dawn, beckoning him to go in the living room where he could open his presents and drink some hot chocolate... he could still remember how happy he had been, when Itachi had given him a samll pouch with some kunai saying Sasuke was old and good enough to use those instead of the dullied ones he used at the Academy - at least he could use them at home. That one, small, praise from his brother had left him in high spirits for more than a week.

And now he was 9 years old, and no one had come to wish him a happy birthday—no one that _mattered_, anyway. His family was gone, completely wiped out... the only evidence were the spots of darker earth where the ground had absorbed the blood; his brother was gone, the blood of his relatives on his hands, and the only gift Itachi had given him were words so heavy he could physically feel the weight of on his shoulders. The house, cold and unwelcoming outside of his own room, was populated with ghosts of the happier days and they haunted him.

Sasuke pulled his knees closer to his chest, pulling the thick blanket around his shoulders to cover his body a little tighter, repressing a shudder. He rested his forehead on his knees and let out a strangled breath.

He didn't want pity from anyone.

He didn't need pity from anyone.


End file.
